The Unhappy Shopper
by Channel D
Summary: Leon Vance needs to do his Christmas shopping...and when you're the busy Director of NCIS, it may mean five trips before you have success. Written for the NFA Five Times challenge. One-shot, humor.


**The Unhappy Shopper**

**or**

**Four Times Vance Tried Get His Christmas Shopping Done Early…**

…**and the One Time That He Had Success**

**by channeld**

_written for_: the NFA _Five Times_ challenge  
><em>rating<em>: K plus  
><em>genre<em>: humor

* * *

><p><em>disclaimer<em>: I own nothing of NCIS.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

There was one thing that Jackie _insisted_ upon for Christmas in the Vance household: that her husband, Leon, do part of the shopping. Oh, not a _large_ part. He had to shop for the presents for _her_, of course. But she also demanded that he buy a gift for each of the children, to prove…something. He wasn't sure what. That he cared? That he knew what their current interests were? (The thought of being quizzed on that made him squirm.) Jackie would shop for most of their presents, but this notion of _Leon, you _will_ buy one present for them_ went back to Jared's first Christmas and how long she sentenced him to time in the doghouse after his practical (_bargain_!) gift of six months of diapers. It had seemed like a great idea at the time…

And so it was every year that he joined the masses in the malls, looking for perfect…or, suitable…Christmas presents.

Life had been _so_ much simpler when he was single.

* * *

><p><strong>I. Early October<strong>

Leon James Vance, the Director of NCIS, made sure that he got out now and then, despite the presence of bodyguards. The trifle annoyance of two black-clad tag-alongs was worth it, usually, just to get away from the house. At home there was no peace and quiet. If the kids weren't squabbling, then on weekends Jackie was at his shoulder with her _honeydew_ list. There was _Honey, do be sure to clean out the gutters this weekend_ and _Honey, do remember we promised Lily we'd repaint her room this fall_ _and you know what painting does to my sinuses _and _Honey, the bathroom faucet is still dripping._ All this when he'd really rather be watching college football on TV. Going Christmas shopping and braving the crowds sounded like a walk in the park in comparison.

So he set out, one Saturday afternoon in early October. The day was mild, the trees still fully green and winter seemed ages away. The bodyguards—Thorne and Swobodkin—were mute, as usual. If they had opinions about all of this, they kept them to themselves. Leon rather liked that in a bodyguard. It meant that they also weren't likely to complain when he told (_Asked_! I meant, '_asked'_! he thought) them to carry the packages. Both agents were new to his detail this year. Thorne had been a trapeze artist before joining NCIS; she was slender and graceful but as deadly as a ninja. Swobodkin, about the size of a Mach truck, had been a piccolo player in the old country before coming to the US. He had the soul of a poet who liked to pen lines about kittens and sunshine, and who was a top marksman. Leon figured he was lucky to have both of them on his side. On the enemy's side, they would be scary.

Leon expected the malls to be empty. After all, who wouldn't want to get in a round of golf, do some yard work, or watch the kids play football or soccer? Who would want to _shop_ on a lovely day like today?

Only the people who had heard about the mall's _pre-pre-pre Christmas shopping sale_, it turned out. Giant snowflakes were already hanging from the ceiling, and equally giant plasma screens let shoppers know that there were _only_ _77 days until Christmas!_ All of the stores were smothered in Christmas decorations, while many of the shoppers still wore shorts and sandals. Leon felt vaguely ill.

But he mustered up his courage. "I'll shop for my daughter, first," he said bravely. Thorne and Swobodkin nodded ever-so-slightly, scanning the crowds behind dark sunglasses.

_What does a father get for his little girl?_ Leon wondered, and regretted now coming out without a list. Socks? Little girls' socks were cute, with tiny bows on the cuffs, He had a vague notion, though, that Lily (and, worse, Jackie) would be underwhelmed. Software to help her with her schoolwork? A sturdy, practical, raincoat? A larger deposit to her college fund? He couldn't decide.

The mall was suddenly filled with music as a high school band, pelting out Christmas standards, marched the long hallways. Sound systems around the mall amplified the music, and the band's progress was carried on the giant plasma screens above the _only 77 days!_ legend. Shoppers poured out of the stores to watch. The hallway became very crowded.

"Director, this is not a good place to be now," Thorne murmured.

Leon looked at the mostly female crowd, all of whom distinctly had the hardy shopping gene. They _looked_harmless, but one never knew. "You're right. I've lost my appetite for shopping today," he said. "And I've acquired a headache. Let's go home. We'll stop at the hardware store for paint for Lily's bedroom."

* * *

><p><strong>II.<strong> **Late October**

A few weeks later, Leon was able to leave work early one day. That day happened to be Hallowe'en, which he figured would be a good day to be at the mall. Everyone would be out trick-or-treating, right?

Although he went to a different mall this time, to his surprise the Christmas shoppers out in force…and the mall's Christmas decorations were somewhat overlaid with jack-o-lanterns and witches. In the (artificial) snow. Next to the Santa Claus figures. "It hurts to look at it," said Thorne.

"You, at least, are wearing sunglasses," Leon snapped.

"I have an extra pair, if you would like to borrow them, Director." But he waved that idea away.

Leon led the way to a lingerie shop. He was proud of himself for remembering Jackie's dimensions, after a couple of years of getting them miserably wrong.

"Sir, are you absolutely sure about this?" said the saleslady, frowning.

"Of course I am. Why?" Leon tried to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Well, it's just that the woman you describe would be about three and a half feet high with a 15 inch waist, and her bust would be a size 54, triple 'E'."

Leon paused. "That's not typical, is it?"

"No, sir."

"Maybe I've got the numbers switched."

"That's possible."

"Or I'm misremembering them again."

"That happens to all of us."

An idea came to him. "Do you have anything in a one-size-fits-all?"

The saleslady frowned again. "Lingerie doesn't work that way, sir."

"No. Hmm, I suppose it doesn't. I'll have to come back." Leon was disappointed with his memory. True, Christmas was still at least 10 weeks away, but he wanted this task to be over with! Jackie was expecting a gift that showed he still thought she was desirable. He would have to come back; that was all there was to it. He sighed; greatly, and turned to go.

Thorne was surveying, with a smile, a rack of lacy pink underwear. Leon was surprised; that didn't seem to match with what he thought of her…and then he tried to wipe his mind of any thoughts of her and underwear. Swobodkin, meanwhile, was stretching the elastic band on a flannel garment. "Thorne!" he hissed. "You think Mrs. Swobodkin like this, yes?"

Casting an appraising eye, Thorne said, "I'd go for the one next to it. It's got pictures of trucks on it. You know how she likes trucks."

"Ah, yes. Good. Good. She like tanks better, but I see no tanks here in store. Trucks is good. I buy it."

_Nothing says "Merry Christmas" to a wife like tanks on pajamas,_ Leon thought. Well, not everyone could be married to an incredibly sexy woman like Jackie. "When you're ready, let's go on to the next place. Something for my son."

At the next store, which carried sporting goods, Leon was mulling over equipment when excited chatter of children filled the air. He looked up and saw costumed kidlets dashing in, carrying trick-or-treat bags. The kids almost knocked him over in a rush to get to the clerks, each of whom (he now saw) carried a pouch of candy in their apron.

Thorne looked a little alarmed at the potential security risk. Swobodkin was already on the phone. "Is mall promotion," he said a minute later. "All shops handing out candy to children in costumes." He did a quick mental calculation. "May be more than 1,000 children in mall for this. We must go, Director."

"Go? I have shopping I have to do!"

"Not today, Director. Is not wise. Children likely harmless to you. But adults with them…"

Leon sighed. "Oh, all right. At least _you_ got some shopping done."

The big agent smiled. "I know my wife."

Popping the car trunk open, Swobodkin put his purchase in there. "Is okay I leave this here for few days, Director? Not want Mrs. Swobodkin to get curious if I bring home package now."

"That's fine," Vance said, absently. "Now, I suppose I need to stop for more Hallowe'en candy. We always seem to run out by 7 o'clock."

"Do you taste-test it ahead of time, Director?" Thorne asked with a sly smile. Leon only harrumphed.

* * *

><p><strong>III.<strong> **Veterans Day Eve (Marines birthday)**

Less than two weeks later, Leon slipped out of work early again. Hallowe'en was now in the rearview mirror. Thanksgiving was coming, but it had no effect on the shopping season, other than stores being closed on that day (only to explode the next day, "Black Friday"). At NCIS, the world looked much like it always did, although he'd heard that Abby Sciuto had Thanksgiving decorations up in her lab, with her Christmas boxes sitting at the sidelines. Leon tried to control the amount of eye-rolling he did.

For NCIS, though, November had two more days of note, and these were back-to-back: Veterans Day on the 11th, and the Marine Corps birthday on the 10th. The day of the Marines was marked, as always, with a ball. Naturally, it would be held _on_ the birthday, even if that fell in the middle of the week. This year, it was on a Thursday. This year, Leon had a regularly-scheduled teleconference with the SECNAV at 6:30 a.m. every Friday, including Veterans Day. It would be a long night.

But his schedule was busy for several weeks in, and only on _this_ day, which he had months before scheduled the afternoon off so he could go home and get ready for the Marine Ball at a comfortable pace, could he hope to squeak out time for shopping. Jackie was expecting him by 12:30, or 1 at the latest. She was not happy to hear that he'd be a couple hours late. Wincing over the need to tell a small lie, Leon told her on the phone that he had to work for most of the afternoon. If she knew he was going Christmas shopping, she'd find a reason to go through the trunk of the car. The woman couldn't stay away from gifts meant for her.

"Mrs. Vance expected you to come right home, Director?" Thorne needled sweetly.

"She need never know about this," Leon said grumpily, as Thorne drove toward Dupont Circle.

"Unless the car is attack and we are in news," Swobodkin chuckled. "Then, she find out."

"And the attack will then be the least of my worries, I know," Leon sighed. Would Christmas _never_ be over?

* * *

><p>Dupont Circle was a neighborhood of DC with many boutiques, galleries, and book stores. As long as he didn't try to buy a party dress for Lily at a boutique, or a painting for Jared at a gallery, he should be pretty safe, he figured.<p>

Thorne found a good parking space, by luck, and Leon's eye fell on a nearby jewelry shop. "Jewelry, lingerie, and chocolates are all it takes to make Jackie happy," he said, getting out of the car. "The rest is gravy."

"Mrs. Vance like gravy?" Swobodkin asked. "Mrs. Swobodkin have great recipe. It in her family five, six or more generations."

Leon politely didn't comment. He strode across the street to the shop; his bodyguards trailing like sunglass-clad ducklings. "Good afternoon," he greeted the man behind the store counter. "I'm looking for something really special for my wife for Christmas. Do you have those chocolate diamonds I've heard about?" _She doesn't have that, and I might even be able to also call that my 'chocolate' gift!_

"Yes, sir. Were you interested in a ring, or necklace, or pendant, or earrings?"

"Maybe a pendant and earrings."

"Very good. Step this way, sir; this third display case has our colored diamonds."

It was a good time to be shopping; only one other customer was in the shop now, a matronly woman being assisted by another clerk at the other end of the shop. He sensed Thorne and Swobodkin looking around at the jewelry. They weren't entirely relaxed, but nor were they off guard, either. Still, it felt more secure than the mall scenes.

"_Nobody move! This is a hold-up!" _barked a man suddenly. He was one of three men in ski masks, carrying automatic rifles, who now stood in the shop entrance. The woman customer screamed, and there was a _thud!_ which may have been her clerk fainting.

"No trouble," said the man who'd been assisting Leon, his hands raised and his face pale. "Stay calm. We don't want trouble."

Leon didn't look at his agents, although Thorne was in his line of sight. He trusted that they would do their best. They would be better able to stealthfully draw their Sigs than he would be; he might be a little out of practice at that. But there was no rush. At least one, and probably two of the robbers would soon be scooping up jewelry. Then the numbers would favor the agents and the Director. Then…

Suddenly, gunshots: two quick ones, and then one of the robbers fell, holding his arm and cursing. "That'll teach you to rob decent, innocent people!" the matronly customer shouted. She was holding a small pistol that must fit neatly in her purse. "Shame on you!"

"You...!" cried one of the other robbers. He raised his rifle, but a high kick from Thorpe to his jaw brought him down, and she then wrestled him for his rifle. Swobodkin plowed into the other standing robber, flattening him like a steamroller. For his part, Leon dived on the wounded robber, who had been trying to get to his feet. The man was very active—probably high, Leon guessed—and they had quite a struggle; the man ripping Vance's jacket and even managing to get a shot off, to Leon's surprise. It sounded very loud, so close up.

_"Director!"_ the bodyguards cried, and Swobodkin jumped onto the man, causing some bone to snap.

"I'm okay," said Leon, getting up. "Though I'm not sure my jacket survived." With a sigh he fingered the bullet hole at the very top on one shoulder. "And this was a new suit, too."

Police sirens quickly were heard. "Excuse me, ma'am," said Leon, approaching the very calm customer. "Do you have any connection with the Navy?"

"The Navy? Why, no, young man."

"Or the Marines?"

"None at all. My late husband did his part with the Army. He was in Korea. He was a doctor at a MASH. That's a—"

"Thank you, ma'am." Leon bowed slightly. To his bodyguards he said, "Thank heavens this is _in no way_ our jurisdiction. We'll give our statements to the police, ask that our names be withheld from the press, and Jackie need never know."

They went straight home, but because of a traffic jam, it was after 5 when they got to Alexandria. As soon as Leon, walked in the door, Jackie spotted his disheveled appearance. "Leon! What were you doing? Your new suit! You're not made of money, you know!"

"No, dear," he said, meekly. "I'm going to take a shower and get changed."

"Your dinner will have to be a hamburger from one of the drive-throughs. We have to be at the Ball at 7!"

"Yes, dear." The kids, already under the care of a babysitter, were watching TV. Christmas ads had already taken over the air waves, and still Leon had no presents to show for his endeavors.

* * *

><p><strong>IV. Thanksgiving Eve<strong>

As the days flew off the calendar, Leon could feel his panic building. Christmas was coming! Like a freight train! Even someone as big and strong as Swobodkin couldn't stop it! And if he couldn't stop it, nobody could!

In his office, alone, Leon grabbed his desk, panting. _Calm down, idiot;_ he tried telling himself. _It'll work out._ He racked his brain, struggling to remember if there was insulation in the dog house. Winter was coming, too.

It was the day before Thanksgiving. While many of the NCIS employees who weren't on the holiday skeleton staff took leave that afternoon to extend their holiday, Leon had scheduled a full day for himself. This day was usually quiet, and he could get a lot done. Then the holiday would be guilt-free for him (aside from all the calories he'd take in), and he would be back at NCIS on Friday, sober and well-rested.

He drummed a pencil on the desk.

_I should be doing something._

_Something important._

_I have lots of important things to see to. Reports to read and approve. The promotion list and the awards list. And stuff._

_Jackie's important. So are our two tax deductions._

He got up and put on his coat, and pulled out his phone. "Swobodkin, get the car. We're going Christmas shopping."

* * *

><p>The first stop was the mall that they had gone to back in early October. Investigator work had provided Leon with the numbers he needed for his lingerie purchase, and he wanted to go back to <em>this<em> mall because he knew now where that store was. It was a time-saving measure, and flimsy lingerie was probably the same everywhere, he figured.

He even got the same nice clerk, though she might have been pretending to not remember the man with the 3 ½ foot wife with the 54 inch, triple 'E' bust. "Yes, sir; we have a number of beautiful gowns in that size. Let me show you."

After asking her opinion on which ones she thought were particularly sexy, Leon chose two high-priced ones; one in rich purple and the other in emerald green. The clerk rung up the order and put them in a box—Leon said one box was sufficient.

"Here; carry this," he said, thrusting the box on Thorne as they left the store. Then his phone rang, and he listened grimly. "Got to go back to NCIS," he said to the agents. "Gibbs' team is caught in crossfire, and Agent David is wounded."

A back-up team arrived at the crime scene to help out Gibbs' team, and soon everything was under control. Ziva's leg wound was not serious, and she left the hospital ER that night after being patched up. She still planned to attend the team Thanksgiving dinner at Gibbs' house the next day.

That was good news, but it took several hours before they could all let their breaths out. By the time Leon got home, it was 9 o'clock and the kids were in bed. A long day, but all in all, the disruption was more important than a few Christmas presents. He kissed his wife and they stood, holding each other, for several long minutes.

* * *

><p><strong>V. December 24<strong>

Now time was moving so fast Leon swore that people went by him in a blur. There were now so many events on the Vance schedule that he almost needed a social secretary to keep track of them. (Fortunately, he had Jackie, who was just as talented.) There were holiday pageants at the kids' school. There were parties to attend…Jackie, blessedly, only accepted invitations to three. There were lights to hang on the house eaves—but that was one thing on the honeydew list that Leon actually _liked_ doing.

And in all this, starting right after Thanksgiving, things turned grim at NCIS when two rookie agents assigned to Norfolk were kidnapped, and possibly spirited out of the country. Vague demands were made for their release; so vague that Intel suggested sophisticated terrorists were behind the kidnapping. Likely the kidnappers would never release them under any circumstances. They agents might already be dead.

Leon spent long hours at NCIS; coming home very late (or not at all) for weeks; his work broken only by those necessary parties and the school pageant. Dozens of agents, practically everyone he could spare in the region, worked the case. The FBI also helped, and abroad, the CIA had an eye out. Leon postponed the annual agency awards ceremony—something that had long been a fixture of early December.

When the agents were rescued on December 23 in northern Africa, weak and battered, but very much alive, the cheers were deafening at HQ. An undercover mission by agents from the Contingency response Field Office had paid off. Leon went home that night with a smile on his face.

* * *

><p>The next day was Christmas Eve. Leon knew what came after that. He also knew that he absolutely could not avoid some work at NCIS that day; Saturday or no; Christmas Eve or no. There was paperwork and teleconferences dealing with the kidnapping that had to be done. The SECNAV wanted to meet. Leon hoped to do a telemeeting with the two rescued agents in their hospital rooms in Germany, if that was possible. And doubtless, there would be ten or twenty people who wanted just a few minutes of his time. <em>Would a pot of boiling oil fit over my door?<em> he wondered. No pot, no oil (boilable) in stock at NCIS, alas. No time to shop for same, either.

_Shopping!_ Time was growing short, like a candle burning down. He tried vainly to get out of the office, but perhaps the Christmas spirit was in him, for he found he really couldn't turn anyone away. At one point, as dusk turned the very air outside blue and purple, Abby Sciuto dropped by his office with a decorated wreathe. "You work harder than any ten people I know, Director! You're always here. Have a Merry Christmas!"

"Thank you, Ms. Sciuto," he said, smiling. "A Merry Christmas to you, too." And then he decided to call it a day.

* * *

><p>"Where we go, Director?" asked Swobodkin, who was at the wheel.<p>

"The mall. Any mall. I'm not fussy. They're all alike," said Leon, with a wave of his hand.

"Uh, Director, they're all closed," said Thorne, turning her head to face him. "It's after 5, and Christmas Eve…"

Leon's face fell. "There's no place open? Not in all of metro Washington?"

"No, sir; not even the airport shops."

"No. Is one place. I know it," said Swobodkin.

"Where, man? And why is it open when everyplace else isn't?" Leon demanded.

"Is community, settlement, from my old country. Christmas, we do what you call _Old Christmas_. Is celebrate in January. Tomorrow not our Christmas, so our shops still open Saturday night."

"Well, take us there!" Leon urged. "Drive! Drive!"

The settlement was not far north, in Maryland. Its business district was about three blocks long and two blocks wide, and it was lively on this evening. People chattered, stopping and finding others they knew along the way. Pushcarts sold plump, spicy sausages, fried dough, and hot roasted chestnuts. The shops appealed mostly to ethnic tastes, in clothing, food, books and the like, but Leon mustered up his positive attitude, sure that he could find things to make his family happy.

But it wasn't a quick process. He looked in a shop of clothing for children. There were not the fashionable things that today's middle-class kids wore; the droopy pants and the short skirts. These were more like costumes. There were no boxing things in the games store, either. In the women's dress shop, again everything had a definite cultural stamp that didn't match his own American-grown culture. Jackie could never wear one of those dresses to a party!

"Is you look for something, sir?" asked a woman at the second dress shop, smiling. "Nice present for wife?"

"Yes, but…I'm not sure anything here is her style."

"Outsiders, they always say that. _Always_. Because our people like color and all dresses together, they overwhelm. Come, I show you dresses, one at time, by our gray wall You like. You see."

And indeed, when she brought out the dresses, one by one, Leon was amazed to see that each had simple lines and was truly beautiful. He bought two, finding his spirits lifting.

With fresh insight, he went into a jewelry store and found a lovely necklace, not with chocolate diamonds but with emeralds, amber and topaz. Jackie loved green; she'd surely like this. The chocolate pendant could wait for Valentine's Day…and he could still claim it as a chocolate gift, too.

At a games store, he bought for Jared an imported boys' soccer tunic, with shorts and shoes. It was brightly colored and Jared could practice in it casually, if nothing else. For Lily, at the kids' clothing shop, he asked for suggestions. He'd now seen girls her age in these imported clothes running by, and they all looked cute in their outfits. No reason why Lily couldn't, too. A dress, shawl, and shoes were rung up for her.

The last stop was for chocolate. Leon let the shopkeeper given him little samples, and then it was so hard to choose. He finally went for an assortment of hand-made chocolates wrapped up in a fancy gilded bowl. And then he was done. He was really _done_.

"So you haven't done your Christmas shopping yet, Swobodkin?" he said to his agent. "You've got that extra week or so?"

"No, Director; I all finish. And happy, that."

Leon stopped in his tracks. "How can you be finished? When did you get time?"

Swobodkin chuckled. "I go home nights, Director. I shop online."

_Shop online…!_ Leon shoved his stack of purchases at him. "Here. _You_ carry these!"

* * *

><p>At the Vance driveway, Swobodkin got his car out of the garage. Thorne had the live-in duty this month; Swobodkin got to go home. Leon popped the trunk and pulled out his bags of gifts, pleased with himself, while Swobodkin retrieved the box of lingerie for his wife that he'd placed in there back in October. "I wait any longer, I forget it," he said with a laugh. Then he bowed deeply and shook Leon's hand. "Happy Christmas, Director."<p>

"Thank you, Swobodkin. Same to you!"

Swobodkin and Thorne exchange comrade-ly hugs, in honor of the holiday, and Leon and Thorne went inside, where Jackie was reading a Christmas book to the kids. The dog wagged her tail in greeting, and the house was full of the good smells: fresh bread, cinnamon, vanilla, pine. The tree lights twinkled. The fire in the fireplace warmed the living room. Leon still had to wrap his gifts (all were in boxes, saving a step), but that was trivial.

His shopping was _done_, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

><p>The next morning, gaily-wrapped packages were quickly reduced to paper rubble. Leon thought, in passing, of hiring his kids out to demolition teams. <em>They could earn their keep that way. <em>The kids loved, no, _adored_, the gifts he'd picked out for them, and put the clothes on.

"I wanna wear this outside!" exclaimed Lily; twirling in her full-skirted dress.

"Not today, dear; it's snowing," Jackie called.

With another cup of coffee, and one for Jackie, Leon settled down on the couch next to his wife. "Good Christmas?" he asked.

"The best!" she said, giving him a kiss, and then another. "Late shopper, though, hmm? I know where you got these."

"It's the thought that counts," he fumbled, and then nodded, to certify the remark. He kissed her, as a distraction.

"Don't think I don't know how busy you've been this fall," she purred. "Leon Vance, I love you."

He spotted something behind the tree. "Whoops! I thought there was something missing. For you, my love." It was the box from the lingerie store.

She opened it, in a state of delight, which then turned to horror. "Leon, _how could you?_ _Pajamas_ with _trucks_ on them? Size _Quadruple X large_?" She ran out of the room, sobbing.

Leon remained on the couch, stunned at the unhappy turn of events. "It could have been worse," he said to no one. "It could have been _tanks_."

-END-


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